Within My Wings
by Jezebel Denver
Summary: She was forced to aid someone...he was the man whom she was assigned to help. However, she has one rule: Do not care for the man you are helping. Will she be able to help him without breaking the rules? First POTO fanfic! Read&Review?
1. Consequences

**Chapter One: Consequences**

They say that learning from one's mistakes can strengthen the soul. I used to think that the very essence of that saying was false. When I was younger, my mother told me that mistakes were character-building, that they helped the world to become a better place. The foolish child that I was, I would question the judgment of my parents. As I would gaze at the cities below, clinging tightly to Mother's robe, I would ask the same question repeatedly.

"You say that humans are the ones that make mistakes, but why do I need to know about consequences?"

Mother would simply laugh, gently patting my ebony hair. "Jesabelle, darling, even the mortal things are worth knowing." I guessed that she wanted me to grow up a pure, dare I say _angelic_, woman. She was probably scared that I would venture down the wrong path, the path that lead straight to hell. After all, it was rumored that my father had wandered that way.

My mother and I were never very close; as soon as I could take care of myself, she eagerly escaped to the higher ranks of the heavens. While Mother was still around, I tried my best to behave as she wanted me to. As soon as her absence was confirmed permanent, I did a 360 and hung with people that were not the crème de la crème, so to speak. Those angels, who knew they were close to being classified as 'fallen', were a big influence during my 'teen years'.

Though they were supposed to be harmless pranks on humans, one of my jokes went too far. Under unholy peer pressure I drove an innocent woman insane. Normally I would have resolved this soon after, but I kept the illusion going just to fit in. The woman I'd tricked tried to commit suicide many times. One of the upper-class was lucky enough to find her, returning her to the world of the sane. Though she had not died, as the one at fault, I was called before the council.

To be called before the council was a sign that your immortality was most likely up. It was a group of well-to-do, and dare I say snobby, beings. They were our elders, their power alone exceeding all of ours combined. I dreaded the results of my trial, which was quickly approaching.

From my wings down to my toes, my body shook as I approached the council. My eyes were plastered on my feet as I approached. I was afraid to look into the eyes of my mother, who sat near the end of the golden table. Only when someone addressed me did I dare raise my head.

"Jesabelle, you know why you have come here." The thundering voice of Michael, the one and only archangel, reached my ears. I'm sure fear was reflected on my face as I stared at him. His naturally angelic features grim, his eyes were alight with the fire of anger and shame. "No doubt there will be consequences for your mistakes, but what will they be?"

Michael walked down marble stairs, slowly approaching me. He gracefully turned his back to me, the feathers of his wings whipping me in the face. My protests were ignored as he looked to the council members for ideas. One by one the angels told him their suggestions. Most of them were along the lines of 'send her to hell,' but a creative source supplied 'hurl the crazy gobbler to earth.' I made ugly faces at each of the suggestions, my expressions hidden behind the wings of Michael.

Though it was entirely inappropriate, I decided to amuse myself by poking Michael's wings. I knew it would take a long time for the whole jury to voice their opinions. I made another ridiculous face behind Michael's back, but my timing was horrible. He turned back to me, his decision made, right when I was in the middle of mocking him. Disappointed, the archangel shook his head.

"For an angel of your age, Jesabelle, you are oddly immature. I will ignore your little joke." He paused, coughing. Had I embarrassed him with my joke, as he called it? When his throat cleared, he began talking again. "Your punishment has been decided. Because you succeeded in driving someone insane, you must succeed in driving someone sane."

Drive someone _sane?_ Michael must have read my mind, because those were the next words he used. "Drive someone sane? Yes…in the mortal world there is a man who needs to be brought back to the light. He has recently had a rude awakening, and needs help recovering his full sanity."

I opened my mouth to question him, but Michael waved one finger. "Don't question me, Jesabelle. I'm sure your peers have talked about this man…" He raised one eyebrow, and I finally remembered what man he was referring to. My confusion dissipated, I took a moment to recall what I knew about this man.

It was true that my friends had been gossiping about this mortal…he had loved some girl, and plummeted into depression after being rejected by his little miss perfect. That's what the rumors said, anyway. I knew not to count on chatter from peers, but I did trust one thing they said. This was better known as the 'walking corpse, death's head appearance' theory.

"Michael…how am I supposed to bring him back to sanity, as you say?" I bit my tongue as he began to pace, forcing myself from saying what was really on my mind. If I had spoken my thoughts, I'm sure that I would have been in much bigger trouble.

"That, Jesabelle, is up to you…use the disguise of a human to help you."

"Wait…a 'guise of a human? Does that mean you're sending me down _there_?" My voice cracked as I absentmindedly pointed to the ground.

Michael nodded, a rare smile spreading across his face. "Yes, Jesabelle, as part of your punishment." He softly clapped his hands, and my wings started to burn. The floor beneath my feet began to give way.

Bending down, Michael whispered something into my ear. "Jesabelle, there is only one rule to the task ahead. Do not, under _any _circumstances, begin to care for the man you will be aiding. Even as a human, an immortal must not truly care for the humans she aids. Close friendship with a mortal can lead to disaster."

The last thing I saw was Michael's dark eyes, suddenly filled with sadness, compassion, and something undefined. After that, I fell, my world going blacker than night.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you, anyone who read this first chapter. As you can probably tell, most of this story will be told from Jesabelle's point of view.

Important: I **do not** own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I only own the characters of Jesabelle and the angels.

Thank you again for reading, and enjoy the rest of the story!

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver


	2. Unfamiliar Place

**Chapter Two: Unfamiliar Place**

I slowly opened my eyes, still in a daze from my fall. Sitting up, I rubbed my temples and tried to recall what had happened. It all came back to me as soon as my mind cleared. If Michael had been serious about punishing me, then that meant I was definitely not in Kansas anymore. Any mind reader from the future would have shot me for my lame joke. After all, the _Wizard of Oz_ wasn't due to exist for awhile.

All cracks aside, I took the time to analyze the unfamiliar place that I was in. My current location was a chilly alleyway, the moon high above my head. I looked up at the moon, finally realizing how beautiful it could be. This was the first time I had gazed at the night sky from below; I was already beginning to feel homesick. If I wanted to get home as soon as possible, it was time to get this show on the road.

I stood up on shaky legs, using the icy brick wall for support. Walking was an odd feeling, as was breathing. Flying was the main transportation in heaven, and breathing had never been required. Focused on getting used to these human habits, I wasted a little time walking up and down the alley. Once I got the basic idea, I headed for the exit, only to trip over something an odd lump.

"Not even ten minutes here and I fall…" I nearly jumped out of my pale skin as I heard a low moan. It seemed that I had stumbled across a sleeping man. Quickly I got to my feet as the man stood up. He was not much taller than me, but the darkness made him seem like a giant. "I'm sorry, sir…I didn't mean to trip over you…"

The man looked at me through cloudy eyes, and I saw that he carried a bottle of dark liquid. "'Ello there, Missy…long way from home, ain't ya? Pretty lil' thing, too. Why don't ya come with me, Missy? I can show you a good 'nough time, that's for sure…" He came closer to me, laughing as I cautiously backed up. I don't know what was on his mind, but I turned on my heels and ran as fast I could.

I thought I heard the man stumbling after me, but I couldn't be sure. Once I caught my breath, which took a bit, I reassessed my situation. Looking down, I saw that my dress was ruined. It didn't take much for me to realize that this was definitely not a good start to my unwanted mission. However, the dress was in my least concern.

My body ached from the fall, and I had no idea where to start looking for the man that I was supposed to help. As if on cue, I heard the faintest whisper. "Paris…opera..." It sounded like Michael's voice, but I couldn't pinpoint the location.

"Michael, wherever you are, shut up and let me do this on my own! I know you can see me down in this hellhole, so pay attention!" (Also, I do not mean to offend any humans who might be reading my tale; at that time I did not find your world the best place, so my opinion was a bit biased.) I imitated my mockery of Michael from the council meeting. It was immature, of course, and it made me look a bit insane. A few townspeople gave me strange looks as they passed by. It must have been because I had been shouting at the sky.

Though I was in a bad mood, I was secretly grateful that Michael had given me a couple clues. As I walked down the streets, I evaluated the little information I had. "Paris…so I am in France, but opera?" Sighing heavily, I turned to a passerby. "Opera, sir? Where can I find opera?"

The young man gave me an odd stare, but answered my question. "You must mean the Opera Populaire, mademoiselle. It's right around the corner." I thanked him and ran off in the direction he was pointing.

I found the opera house soon enough. Even from the outside, it was a grand sight to behold. My mind suddenly turned back to my nasty outfit. How was I supposed to get into the building looking like I did? Surprise hit me as a carriage rolled by, a small suitcase conveniently falling off the back. To tell you the truth, I found it too convenient. Something told me that somewhat divine intervention was helping me, and that intervention would get in trouble if he was caught doing so.

Picking up the trunk, I walked to a place where I would not be seen. I rummaged through the clothes until I found a dress. It wasn't the fanciest article, but it would do. Once into my new outfit, I marched up the stairs of the Opera Populaire with my head held high. This was the place where my so-called client was, lurking somewhere in the halls. Mustering up what courage I had, I opened the door, ready to march into the world of this magnificent opera house.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you to the people who read this chapter, and the chapter before. Story is still in Jesabelle's point of view…I'm debating whether I should add chapters in the Phantom of the Opera's POV later on in the story. If you think I should, don't hesitate in letting me know. (:

Important: I **do not** own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I only own the characters of Jesabelle and the angels.

Thanks for reading; hope you like the story. =]

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver


	3. Bloodhound on a Trail

**Chapter Three: Bloodhound on a Trail  
**

The small suitcase still in my hand, I burst through the doors of the Opera Populaire. A giant grin was plastered on my face, I stomped my way toward the nearest person. This man looked like he would be able to help me. The way he positioned his body gave him the aura of a businessman. Still unknown to the human ways, I gave him a soft slap on the back in greeting. That had been how I had greeted my friends, anyway.

The man nearly lost his footing when I slapped him. He turned around, eyes wide. "Excuse me, mademoiselle, what was the meaning of that?" Coughing, he straightened his top hat and waited for my explanation.

"I'm sorry, monsieur, but I was just saying hello. Isn't that how you greet each other here?"

He shook his head. "No, that is not how we say…hello. Is there a reason why you are here, mademoiselle?" He spoke quickly, as if in a hurry.

"Actually, there is. I'm looking to obtain a permanent residence here, if possible. Can that be arranged?"

"Can you sing?" He raised one eyebrow curiously.

I hesitated before answering. "I've never been able to sing." Not all angels had melodious, perfect voices.

The man adjusted his hat again, frowning slightly. "Can you dance ballet?"

I began to feel embarrassed because of my lack of skills. "No..."

He briefly grimaced. "Can you clean, Mademoiselle?"

Jumping into a victory stance, I proudly nodded my head. "That I can do! You should see my cleaning skills, they are-" I was interrupted by a broom being tossed into my hands. A smiling maid stood next to me. Where in the world had she come from?

"Good, Mademoiselle. You now have a job here as a maid." With that he turned, leaving me in the care of the other woman. I stood there dumbfounded, wondering how I could have gone from angel in heaven to human maid.

The middle-aged woman motioned for me to follow her. "Don't you mind Monsieur Richard. He's secretly happy you're here, I'm sure. It's a good thing you've arrived. After the accident, we haven't been able to keep as many employees. We need all the help we can get."

"Accident?"

Sighing, her eyes became vacant as she remembered. "The chandelier toppled on the stage. Some people believed it was the doing of that Opera Ghost. Some workers left because they were afraid that they'd be the next victim of the Opera. Rumor says the ghost killed a few people." She must have noticed my nervous look. "Don't you worry none. I'm sure the Opera Ghost is just a myth. The name's Charlotte, by the way."

"Wow, that's interesting...and spooky. Nice to meet you, Charlotte. I'm Jesabelle." I stayed silent for some time as I pondered. This Opera Ghost sounded like the person I had to help. In heaven I _had _heard that the man with the 'death's head' had dropped a chandelier on an audience. It was the best and only lead I had, but I wasn't one hundred percent positive. Still, it seemed like the right way to go.

"Say, Charlotte, do you know any more about that Opera Ghost?" We began tidying up the inner auditorium, cleaning rubble from the chandelier incident off of the floor. I figured I could have an interesting conversation and get the information I needed.

"Well, I heard he's up in Box Five…that he stayed even after the chandelier fell. Not sure what else. There are people that know more about the ghost than I do." Charlotte carried on with her work.

I leaned against my broom and stopped to gaze at Box Five. Maybe it was just my eyes, but I could have sworn I saw something moving in the box. "Who else would know?"

Charlotte shrugged. "Lots of others. Just gotta ask around."

I took her advice literally. Head high, I walked off. "I'll be on the other side of the auditorium if you need me, Charlotte." Dragging the broom with me, I gradually swept my way across the room. A smile on my face, I casually started cleaning next to a fellow maid. "Nice weather, isn't it?"

The maid raised one hand, scratching the scalp that lie underneath her curly hair. "You sure about that? It's pouring out. I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new?" She returned my smile with a tiny grin.

"Yeah, I'm new…just got a job, actually. I was wondering, do you know anything about the so-called Opera Ghost?" I tilted my head slightly.

"The Phantom supposedly tricks people, steals things from the _corps de ballet_. The little ballet rats blame him when they lose anything."

The first few weeks went by very quickly; I think I made quite the impression on the workers. Of course, I asked anyone and everyone about the Phantom. Once, I even dared to question Monsieur Richard, the man who had given me a job. He had just brushed it off and told me to get back to work.

Even though I talked to many people, I didn't get much information. I may have quickly gained a reputation as the girl who was obsessed with the opera ghost, but that didn't help if I couldn't find him. I was a woman on a mission, a bloodhound on a trail.

I regret being oblivious to the shadows, namely the one that began watching me.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you, those who read and/or review. I love that people are reading this story. (:

Important: I **do not** own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I only own the characters of Jesabelle and Charlotte.

Don't worry, Erik will be showing up soon. ;]

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver


	4. Her Repetitive Question

**Chapter Four: Her Repetitive Question**

_Author's Note: This chapter is in the point of view of the Phantom (a.k.a. Erik.) Just to clear up any confusion. (:_

I hugged my body tightly, the chill of the cave finally getting to me. It had been only a few days since _she _was in this very room. The ray of light in my life left when she did, arm in arm with that boy. How could she abandon her angel, the one who gave her a voice? Once I had thought that she would be my chance for a happily ever after, but it seemed even that was gone. Was I doomed to go forever without knowing love?

Slowly I stood up, still holding the last rose I had given her. A voice in the back of my mind told me that if I went on like this, it would surely be my downfall. No, it would not. As long as I had my music, I was still the Phantom of the Opera. No one, not even Christine, could take that from me.

Maybe if I distracted myself for awhile I would forget the pain. Placing the porcelain half-mask on my deformity, I left the cave. After all, this was my opera house. I could not wallow in sadness and let the Populaire go to ruin. This was, and always would be, my home and my sanctuary. The depths of the caverns could serve as my shelter for years to come.

Trying to focus on the running of the Populaire, I crawled into the shadows. For awhile I wandered around, watching the workers clean up the mess from the chandelier. It was not very interesting; they acted as if nothing had happened. I continued surveying until I caught sight of Richard, one of the daft managers that ran my opera. For a moment I considered moving on, until a stranger forced her way through the opera doors.

She appeared as nothing but a commoner, but she held herself confidently. My acute hearing picked up some of their conversation. So, the proud little girl wanted to live in the opera house? My mind started to wander as Richard questioned her about her talents. Could she be the next great star, if I trained her voice? No, I would _not _let my mind wander there. That would mean going through the past again, except with this raven-haired child in place of my perfect Christine. Everything would be the same: the singing lessons, the rejection…the heartache.

It was a surprise and a relief to hear her admit that she could not sing. When I saw a broom thrust into her hands, I thought that the position fit her. It was easy to picture this girl as a maid. As soon as the older woman walked off with the overly confident one, I wondered why I had wasted my time watching her. Her proud manner might stand out among the maids, but I had no business giving my valuable attention to a mere _maid._

Again I turned, staying hidden in the shadows. It seemed to me that the opera had gotten much duller since _she _did not sing anymore. Damn, why did my thoughts always wander back to Christine? I dug my nails into my scalp as if I was trying to dig out all the memories of my angel. Grimacing, I decided that I needed to try my best to forget.

Not knowing what else to do, I crept back to my box. The girl was chatting with the old maid as they swept away the rubble. Though she had made quite the entrance, it seemed that my evaluation of her had been wrong. She was just as uneventful as the rest of the cleaning crew, or so it seemed.

Coincidentally she scooted closer to my box, speaking quite loudly. "Say, Charlotte, do you know any more about that Opera Ghost?" Her question shocked me. Why would she be asking about _me_? It was unlikely that her companion knew anything, but it was wise to listen in. You never know what you could find out.

Charlotte hesitated for a moment. "Well, I heard he's up in Box Five…that he stayed even after the chandelier fell. Not sure what else. There are people that know more about the ghost than I do."

I ducked into the shadows as one of them turned to look at Box Five. The chances of her seeing me were almost unlikely, but there was no reason the risk it.

"Who else would know?" She turned her back to the box.

As soon as Charlotte told her to 'ask around', the strange girl came up with an uncreative excuse. What in the world was she doing? I left the box, quickly following her from above as she slinked across the auditorium floor. Her head was held high as she slid into position next to another maid.

Only one part of their brief conversation interested me. The girl asked this stranger about me as well. I was glad to note that she seemed disappointed with the answer she received. However, this did not seem to stop her. As if following a pattern, she moved across the room. Her actions alone gave the impression of her being crazy, but the question she asked each person made me suspicious of her.

"Do you know anything about the Phantom?" Normally I would have disregarded her existence, but I wondered why she was so curious about me, of all people. Was she some type of undercover policeman, here to capture me? I'm sure there was some type bounty on my head. Though I thought I was free from my obsession from Christine, the fact that I murdered people still remained.

Her curiosity only heightened as the days progressed. Though I did not hold her in high regard, I had to admit that she had courage. She walked up to Richard, blasting her repetitive question in his face. If I was not wary of her intentions, I might have laughed at her foolishness.

Wariness soon turned to anger and annoyance. Jesabelle, as I found out, was slowly digging her own grave. How dare she try to disturb my solitude? She was clearly trying to find something, whether it be my location or otherwise. Sometimes she would come up to my box, touching the velvet chairs softly. It soon became a daily routine for her.

I grew to loathe her, as she was trespassing on my past. Precious memories of my box were ruined by her presence. Yes, I had to stop her investigation, no matter the risk involved. My privacy was one of the things I treasured most, next to my music and Christine.

Jesabelle's constant search for gossip would come to an end very soon. Of that I was positive. No, it was not time to step in yet. For now I would stay in the shadows, watching to make sure that she did not make any progress in her futile mission.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And so ends Erik's point of view…for now, that is. I'm hoping to have more chapters with his point of view in the future. I'm nervous that I made him too out of character…I hope he's not /that/ OOC. First attempt at Erik's POV, so don't shoot me. x]

I'd like to thank the readers for nearly 100 hits on this story. (: I certainly wasn't expecting that many hits so quickly. Also, thank you to the reviewers, and the person who added my story to their faves list.

Important: I **do not** own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I still own just the characters of Jesabelle and Charlotte.

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver


	5. A Great Development

**Chapter Five: A Great Development**

_Author's Note: The story is back in Jesabelle's point of view. (:  
_

I sat on the floor, my chest heaving. The past month had been spent sweeping, scrubbing floors, and going miscellaneous chores. Though I continued to inquire about the Phantom of the Opera, I didn't get very far. Sometimes, when I would sneak into Box Five, I did get an odd feeling. It was as if someone, or something, was glaring daggers at me. Often I left the box as quickly as I came.

Sometimes, as my acquaintances had once said, I would hear a soft and mournful tune in certain hallways. There were no words to the sad song, and at times it made me want to cry. Other times I might hear footsteps in empty rooms, or whispers in the night. I gradually began to think I was becoming paranoid. The legends of the opera ghost were getting to my mind. Yet, no matter what I thought or experienced, I came no closer to finding the location of the ghost.

"Something wrong, Jessy?" Charlotte patted me on the shoulder, awakening me from a daydream.

I shook my head. "No, Charlotte…just thinking about home."

"Again? You must really miss that place." I received a sympathetic look from Charlotte, who turned her attention back to her work.

"You have no idea…" My mind often wandered back to heaven and to the few friends I had left behind. It was a frustrating thought to know I had been stuck as a human for over a month, but had not gotten anywhere. There was no way I could get back, as I still had to help a human. I still wondered why I had been assigned a man who hid in the shadows, where it was almost impossible to find him.

The day dragged on, the end of the work hours coming as a relief. I walked down the dark hallway, ready to retire for the night. Somehow I was lucky enough to spot Monsieur Richard and Monsieur Andre coming toward me. They were engulfed in conversation, and did not notice me as they walked past. Fate was on my side, it seemed, as I quietly followed them. Maybe they could give me a little more information on the mysterious ghost.

"What are we going to do, Richard?" Andre's voice squeaked, his tone full of uncertainty.

"We _will _get rid of our problem, Andre. This so-called Opera Ghost will be exterminated."

"I'm not sure...remember what happened to Buquet and Piangi? What if he goes for _us _next? We can't ignore his letters."

"Must you bring that up, Andre? We shall find a way to get rid of the ghost. There is no point in bowing down to some lunatic and handing over our money."

"He's become threatening, Richard. The ghost, lunatic or not, wants his money. See? Here's his most recent note." Andre handed Richard a folded piece of paper. My eyes widened as I saw the note. So, the opera ghost was still here! This was a great development.

"There is no point in keeping this. Let the obsessed performers do what they want with the ghost; we will not be shaken." Richard threw the now-crumpled note to the floor.

Stopping until they were a little bit ahead, I dashed toward the paper. I picked it up, but managed to step on an extremely loose piece of wood.

The managers turned around, giving me 'the look.' It was the stare they gave anyone who did a bad job. "Mademoiselle, what exactly are you doing?" Andre stepped forward, raising an eyebrow.

"I, er…was just cleaning up the hallway for you!" I held up the wrinkled note.

They seemed to doubt my excuse, but accepted it. I didn't think of it as a lie, because I technically was cleaning up. The trash wasn't on the floor anymore, at least.

"Well, since you are cleaning up, why don't you go clean the chairs in the auditorium?" Richard barked the order at me, and then marched away, Andre on his heels.

"Great." I muttered a few colorful words under my breath, heading back to do some work after-hours. When I was alone, I started to open the note. Maybe it would be something more exciting than a request for a paycheck. If I was lucky, and the opera ghost was dumb enough, it might even give me hints to his location!

A cold hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I jumped, turning around to slap the perpetrator. My wrist was grabbed, and I was suddenly staring into the face of Madame Giry. She was a kind but strict woman, the teacher of the ballet corps. "I suggest not prying into business that isn't yours." With that, I was again alone in the hallway.

Her words left my mind in a blur. What did she mean by business that wasn't mine? I thought the opera ghost was my business, as he was my one-way ticket home. She was suspicious, but so were a lot of other people.

"Opera ghost, if you're out there, listen up. I'm still on your case, no matter who you send to warn me!" I threw my shoulders back, resting my hands on my hips.

I could have sworn I heard a faint chuckle. I made sure that I was alone, but the soft laughter did not stop. Either I was imagining things, or I was not really by myself in the hall. Turning, I quickly walked to the auditorium to clean the chairs. The note was stuffed into the pocket of the odd apron I wore. When I had the chance, I would read the note. Slowly but surely, I was finally moving a step ahead in my quest.

I'm sure that the angels in heaven were laughing at me. I could almost see them standing in a circle, mocking me. Maybe they hoped I would start a genuine friendship with Charlotte or even the opera ghost, after I located him. However, I was determined to prove them wrong. I would complete this mission without real friends, even if I did feel alone.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the late update. ): I was busy over the Easter weekend, and didn't get a chance to finish this chapter until now.

Whoo, Jesabelle is getting closer to finding the ghost. (: Don't worry, it won't be _that _easy for her to meet Erik. After all, he is a man who values his solitude, no?

Thank you, people who are reading. [= I appreciate that you have given this story almost 150 hits. (:

For anyone who might read, but does not have a FFN account: I have opened anonymous reviews. (: If you would like to share your opinion, you can under the anonymous review.

Important: I **do not** own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I still own just the characters of Jesabelle and Charlotte.

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver


	6. Dear Sirs

**Chapter Six: Dear Sirs  
**

I lay down on the hard bed, my lower back aching. Three days had gone by since I found the note, but I had not found a chance to read it. Opening night was closing in, and the managers had us working even faster. If it interests the readers, a production of _Don Carlos_ was underway. Though the opera was written in the 1860s, someone apparently thought it was a good choice.

We maids spent our time polishing the newly constructed stage and cleaning up the aisles. I meant to read the mysterious note before I fell asleep. However, it seemed that I could not keep my eyes open long enough. Though I was tired, I decided to stay awake long enough to remember the note's contents. Taking the crinkled paper, I opened it up and began to read.

_Dear Sirs,_

_I am pleased to see that you have chosen a decent opera. Carlotta, however, should not sing. Her screeching shall surely be the downfall of the Opera Populaire. My suggestion to you: find a new star, and fast. I would suggest Miss Daae, but I know she will not sing here…_

_Also, I would like to remind you that my salary is long overdue._

_Your humble servant,_

_O.G._

The letter was short but to the point. One part confused me, though. What exactly was meant by _she will not sing here_? I noticed that the ink was smudged near the mentioning of Miss Daae. There were also faint stains on the paper, most likely from liquid. A spilled drink was unlikely; I had heard that the opera ghost never ate nor drank. It was just a rumor, but I admit that I was gullible. If it wasn't a drink, it had to be…tears, perhaps?

If the ghost was crying because of Miss Daae, could she be the one that rejected him? At least I was moving ahead in my case. My client, whom I had yet to find, went insane from lack of love. That had to mean that receiving love was the answer. Score one for the angel-on-earth! If I found the Phantom another love, it would mean that my goal would be completed.

Sighing heavily, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. The next morning I awoke with a yawn. Rubbing my eyes, I slowly sat up. My hand moved to the small dresser next to my bed, but it was gone. Had someone stolen it during the night? I always kept my door locked as a precaution; only someone with a key to my room could get in.

Eyes squinting, I began making a list of possible suspects. It was easy to narrow them down. "Richard and Andre would have keys to every room, I'm sure. I doubt that they would want the note back, though. After all, didn't they think that I threw it away? That leaves one shadow of a man. The one I am looking for, of course. Why would the Phantom try to steal a note from little old me? I'm not a threat to him. Hey, ghost! Give me a chance, will you?"

My voice echoed throughout my cramped living space. Long ago I had developed a habit of talking to myself. This happened soon after my mother left, and before I made any more friends. Reassuring myself that Mother would come back used to be my only comfort. Though I was long past that stage, the habit stayed with me.

A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. "Jessy, you alive in there? Time to start working. Wouldn't want to get in trouble again!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll be right there, Charlotte!"

Charlotte gave me a curious look as I exited my room, but didn't say anything. She handed me some polish and a rag. As we walked down the hallway, it felt like someone was watching. Turning to look over my shoulder, I thought I saw a figure.

I turned my head for a moment, just to tell Charlotte that I would meet her in the main hallway. As soon as I looked back, though, the shady figure was gone. Maybe my eyes had been playing tricks on me. Shrugging it off, I turned and went to find Charlotte. However, I was unaware that there was indeed a shadow behind me, staring daggers at my back as I left the hall.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh no…a horribly short chapter. D: I promise the next one will be longer. ;)

If it interests you, _Don Carlos _is an actual opera. (: Feel free to Wikipedia it if you're curious…

Over 200 hits on this story! :) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.

Again, anonymous reviews are open for anyone who does not have a FFN account, but would like to review. c:

Important: I **do not** own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters_ or Don Carlos._. I still own just the characters of Jesabelle and Charlotte. x)

I promise the next chapter will be much more interesting than this one. ;)

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver


	7. I am Jesabelle

**Chapter 7: I am Jesabelle  
**

_Erik's point of view_

My latest instructions had been delivered to the managers. I watched them closely as they wandered through the hallways, wanting to make sure that they followed my orders. A deep frown crossed my face. Andre was willing as always, but Richard was as stubborn as a mule. He argued with Andre, throwing my note to the floor.

To my surprise, that girl had been following them the whole time. I watched curiously as she took the note in her small hands. The managers turned simultaneously as she crept away. A scene unfolded rather quickly: the girl made up a horrible excuse, was assigned work, and stomped off to do her duty.

For some unknown reason I followed her. No other maid would talk back, in a sense, to the managers like she had. The shadows concealed me as I entered the auditorium, only to find her sitting on the ground. Her hands wrapped around her knees, she sighed and hunched her shoulders.

"I bet they're laughing at me…do they really want me to fail? I will show them that I _can _complete this mission." Her body shook for a moment, and then her mood changed drastically. She hopped to her feet, dusting off her dirty dress. "Silly me, talking to myself again…"

Her voice droned on, but I left before I could hear any more. Though her insecurity seemed sincere, her words seemed to confirm my theory. _She was sent here to find me,_ I thought. I had to get the note away from her before she could hand the evidence over to her superiors.

I traveled back to my lair, waiting until she would be finished with her work. My eyes kept wandering to the organ, where I had once played. The music I had produced was for Christine and Christine alone. Christine…her name still brought me both sorrow and love. Shaking my head, I was determined to rid myself of the chains that remembering brought me.

Needing a distraction, I quickly returned to the main floor of the opera house. Silently I unlocked her room, stealing the note. A mischievous part of me wanted to see her reaction the next morning. After all, her plan was sure to be thwarted because of my sly actions. Without evidence, where was the case against me?

The morning came quickly, and I was listening as she moved around. I could hear her speaking to herself. "Richard and Andre would have keys to every room, I'm sure. I doubt that they would want the note back, though. After all, didn't they think that I threw it away? That leaves one shadow of a man. The one I am looking for, of course. Why would the Phantom try to steal a note from little old me? I'm not a threat to him. Hey, ghost! Give me a chance, will you?"

Well, it was _not _the way I thought she'd react. Though she thought she was alone, she still had no right to refer to me the way she did. Her 'hey, ghost!' was quite rude. However, I did give her other words some thought. She was practically asking me to meet her, to barge into her room because she supposedly was not a threat. I doubted that highly, but I decided to consider. It would be interesting, actually meeting face-to-face with the girl who stuck out like a rotten music note.

I felt that she needed lessons on respect, though. Staying hidden, I watched as she followed her friend. She stiffened, peeking over her shoulder. Dark violet eyes stared questioningly at me for a moment. By the time she blinked, though, I was long gone.

It had been the first time I'd gotten a good look at her face. The sight wasn't that bad, but her eyes puzzled me. Never before had I seen anyone with purple eyes. Emotions that had reflected in them also puzzled me. There was no fear, just confusion mixed with innocent hope.

After that encounter, I definitely was leaning toward giving the strange girl a chance. Fate decided that our meeting would come quite sooner, though. As soon as she left the hall, she came back. "I forgot a broom in one of the closets, Charlotte!"

She was racing directly toward my hiding spot. In an odd panic, I tried to duck into one of my trap doors. This one had a small flight of stairs that led toward the ceiling, where another trap door lay. Though the ceiling door was bigger, it was only used for a noose when needed.

I ended up near the ceiling trap…perhaps too near. Somehow I lost my footing, plummeting toward the ground. Luckily it wasn't _that _far of a fall, but I still ached. All of the pain disappeared when I realized that she was still standing there. How in the hell could I have fallen, of all people?

Her head tilted to the side, violet eyes sparkling with happiness. What exactly was _she _so ecstatic about? Of course…she was probably going to turn me in. However, she did the opposite. Bending down, she offered me one pale hand. Hesitantly I took it, secretly marveling in the soft texture of her skin. _No, no! I will not think like that!_ The thought rang through my head.

Surprisingly, she gave me a grin that flashed her teeth. It was not the time to notice, but her teeth were not pearly white. "Bonjour. Monsieur Phantom, I presume?" I then realized that my mask had fallen off in the fall. I scrambled to hide the deformed side of my face, but I knew she had already seen.

I felt something hard prodding me in the arm. I opened one eye, to see that she was poking me with my half-mask. "You dropped this, Monsieur."

With a shaky hand I took the mask, covering my face. "M-miss…did you not see? Are you not afraid?"

She again tilted her head, looking much like a curious baby bird. "See? I'm sorry, Monsieur…I did not see your face."

I blinked in surprise. "You did not? That is a good thing." Relief flooded over me.

"Now, Monsieur Phantom, I have been looking for you for awhile." She smiled, holding out her hand in a businesslike manner. "Let me properly introduce myself. I am Jesabelle."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So ends Erik's point of view again. (: He and Jesabelle have finally met!

As for his face, Jesabelle really didn't see it. She has a habit of losing herself in her thoughts, even for brief moments. If you noticed the businesslike manner, kudos. After all, Jesabelle sees him as an unofficial client. x)

Six reviews and over 200 hits! c: Thank you, readers and reviewers.

Anonymous reviews are always open as well. ;)

Important: I **do not** own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. I still own just the characters of Jesabelle and Charlotte.

Next chapter in 12 unique views. The plot will be getting interesting, with the introduction of the new characters…

xoxo,

Jezebel Denver


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